


Connected to you

by Get_below_my_line_of_vision



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Falling In Love, Fluff, M/M, Online Romance, POV Enjolras, Red String of Fate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:00:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24954943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Get_below_my_line_of_vision/pseuds/Get_below_my_line_of_vision
Summary: People are linked by a red thread to their destined lovers. This magical cord may stretch or tangle, but it will never break.It didn’t matter to Enjolras he never had one. He didn’t want one anyway.
Relationships: Combeferre & Enjolras (Les Misérables), Combeferre/Courfeyrac (Les Misérables), Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 91





	Connected to you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SorryItWasMe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SorryItWasMe/gifts).



> Message: Here’s to you since I don’t think I’m ever gonna finish the fic I promised to give to you, so pls accept this instead. Thanks for calming me down every time I panicked or just straight up cried for unknown reasons.  
> The main character does art because I thought who’d be a good romantic lead and I thought of you <3 no homo tho: we’re just gals being pals. Guys being dudes. Bros being hoes— bros! I typed bros… I blame autocorrect.

Almost everyone had a red thread around their little finger. It was seen to be the most romantic thing in the world. Two people were so destined to be together that fate had designed their path for them. If they were to follow the thread, it would lead them to their perfect partner. 

Of course, that didn’t mean everyone wanted to drop literally everything to hunt down the one they loved. By no means did Enjolras desire the need to become a half of a pair. This feeling was also seen as ordinary. An example which comforted him would be his best friends Combeferre and Courfeyrac who told him they were connected with the other. Although they were linked, Combeferre felt no need to make their relationship work yet since he did not experience romantic feelings towards him. Naturally, the two believed Enjolras had the same attitude towards the red thread. Sure, he was connected, but he felt no rush to find his lover. In fact, the blond encouraged this perspective since it was better than telling them he didn’t have one.

When he first learnt about the thread, he imagined what it would look like- how long it would be- where it would be tied around. Being an outspoken child, he expressed all his questions to a boy next to him and received all the answers. After that moment, he no longer took interest in the string nor the idea of true love. Logically, he supposed no one was out there for him.

This was not an uncomfortable thought as Enjolras never expressed much attraction to anyone. He was always alone romantically. Not that it was a negative thing. He loved sitting in his room and painting on his computer. In those worlds he constructed, it would always be realistic but extra colourful.

Despite the concept of creating entirely new universes in art, Enjolras recreated places which would bring him warmth and the feel of comfort. This meant he would feel inspired after seeing views which were familiar to him. For some mysterious reason he loved French infrastructure, its architecture, and all its other -tures he could think of. He couldn’t explain it. Although he could remember when he started to feel this way… It was about a year ago. He saw a beautiful photo of the sunset in a rural area of France, down South if he remembered correctly. It was so enchanting it immediately made him start to draw. For the first time in a really long time there were people in his art. Just two. Lovers? He couldn’t decipher his own drawing. But they were just silhouettes so he put all his energy into the sunset and the buildings instead.  
Now that he remembered… there was a comment. One of the first comments he received which wasn’t from his family or his friends. He couldn’t remember exactly what it said since it felt like it was already years ago. Though he remembered smiling. Wide. Perhaps it was because it was rare to receive comments back then. It was still rare, but back then it was ultra rare.

Either way, he didn’t live off of other people’s comments. If they liked his work, that was great. If they didn’t, it didn’t bother him. All that mattered was how he felt about his drawings: he created it to please himself, not strangers on the internet. He had always been confident and sure of himself.

Then as he browsed another inspiration, he found his account name was tagged. “What?” He whispered. He was sure to never comment, so it wouldn’t make sense why people who didn’t know him would tag him.  
_'@ImdevotedtoPatria Hey, you think I wouldn’t notice you liking all my photos?'_  
Enjolras blinked several times until he clicked on his profile picture and scrolled down. “Shit.” He did like every photo the man took. Panicking, he scrolled further and further down, trying to find a photo he hadn’t liked. Somewhere in the bottom he found a photo he had never seen before. It was the only photo in which the man was present in his photos. He had a camera in front of his face, scrunching his face as he posed, taking a photo of the camera which was taking a photo of him. The post was tagged with the account name of @iRoamTheStreets in which she posted what he took a picture of her at the same moment.  
A chuckle bubbled out of Enjolras as he liked both of their posts until his face dropped. He did it again! “Fuck. Ah, shit- Fuck shit.” He unliked both posts.

For several seconds he froze, overthinking how they were going to react, imagining what they thought of him. In nervousness he liked their posts again, not wanting to paint himself as a villain.

In frustration he lay his face on his computer desk. Then he remembered what the photographer sent. Breathing in sharply he decided to play cool as he messaged him. The man’s account name was ‘Grand-R’ wherein on his bio, he explains the joke of his name (Grantaire) being a pun. Again, accidentally, Enjolras chuckled to himself. Betrayed by his own emotions he gasped.

 _'Sorry, I didn’t know I was spamming you.'_ Enjolras tapped on the keys gently before deciding how to continue. _'I guess I just like your photos.'_ More than anything he feared he was going to be viewed as a stalker. He wondered what Courfeyrac would text and added his vocabulary into his text. _'LOL'_ That would do it- lighten the mood.

_'…..'_

Enjolras was eager to read his reply.

_'Mdr I don’t usually tag people. Hell, I don’t willingly text people either. In truth I wanted to text you because I liked your art.'_

Remember the time when Enjolras believed he didn’t need any feeling of validation from others about his art? Well that was thrown out of the window and Enjolras couldn’t help but grin because of the compliment.

_'Can’t help but notice your art looks so familiar…'_

_'Sorrysorrysorry, do you want credit?'_ Of course it made sense that this was the reason why he would strike a conversation with him… Not because of any other reason.

 _'Hahaha you’re funny.'_ ….Or not? Enjolras leaned back on his chair, confused. _'Patria is lucky to be dating you.'_

After some confused moments, his laughter collapsed out of him as he typed excitedly, _'Patria isn’t a person. It’s my adoration for France.'_ Straight after he pressed send he felt immense regret. For it was only now he realised how misleading his username was.

He impatiently waited for his reply.

_'I can’t wait until you come here then mdr'_

Enjolras couldn’t contain his smile. 

_'I’m just glad I could inspire you'_

By now, Enjolras had left the conversation after staring at the message for five minutes straight. He had paced around the room, debating if he should reply until deciding he would draw instead. When glancing a little to the left, he thought his clock was malfunctioned since it was so late. Then it hit him. They talked for so long. Or maybe he had drawn for a long amount of time. Either way, he was shocked.

The next day, Grantaire texted him in the middle of his studying in his university. Seeing how Enjolras was able to smile so quickly, Combeferre leaned in, swinging his arm around his shoulders, “Let’s see what meme you’re looking at.”  
“Probably the French flag.” Courfeyrac pondered seriously.  
“Yes, maybe.” They shared a lingering look until Combeferre looked down at Enjolras’ phone again only to catch a glimpse of their chat. “Oh, a girlfriend?”  
“I’m sure I’m gay.”  
“Oh, a boyfriend?”  
Without denying it, Enjolras gently pushed his best friend away. “How about your romance?”

Due to the existence of red threads, they knew they would end up with each other, so Courfeyrac was very open about narrating their relationship status. “Oh, ‘Ferre still hasn’t returned my affections.”  
“Huh.” Enjolras said back, genuinely surprised at Combeferre’s resistance. “The time will come.”  
“Obviously.” ‘Ferre said as he lifted his hand as the evidence, referring to the thread that was wrapped around his little finger.  
He lifted his eyebrow. “You do realise only you and Courfeyrac can see your thread, right?”

The end of the day couldn’t have come sooner. As soon as his last lesson finished, Enjolras was practically running back home to talk to his new-found friend. He wasn’t able to reply to the message he received since he could only pay attention when he typed on his computer. So instead the message echoed in his head as he tried to craft a response to: _'I think your art is the best I’ve seen on the internet.'_  
He just couldn’t figure out why he would send such a message. Initially offended, he began writing a list of his favourite online artists and searched for them when he arrived back home. Through the magic of copy and paste he sent the links to Grantaire.  
As he took a long time to reply, Enjolras assumed Grantaire was actually looking at the links. He smiled to himself as if he won an argument… About himself being a not-so-good artist.

Rather than a normal reply, Grantaire fired back with a paragraph detailing how Enjolras’ work was more superior. To him, this was an offence. Thus began a weird pattern of arguing nonsensically with each other. Since Enjolras was smiling as he typed away he imagined Grantaire to do the same as well.

‘Imagined’… Enjolras closed his eyes while he waited for his reply. How would Grantaire be acting like right now? What would his room look like? How did he smile? What did his laughter sound like? Like a soft wind, he was able to hear a faded laughter, and like symphony, Enjolras began to laugh along, enjoying his imagination of his voice.

Then he heard a ping from his phone. His eyes shot open. Both his computer and his phone notified him that Grantaire had replied. Wishing this moment would be endless, he typed back faster than he had ever done before. This caused a lot of miscommunication due to his spelling errors, but they made it through the barrier.

Through debating and joking around for a couple of weeks, they learnt a lot of random, useless facts about each other. For example Enjolras hated the idea of having a royal family and admired the French Revolution to end it. While this linked to Grantaire’s hatred of the Parisian accent as it reminded people of status… However Édith Piaf was off the hook as her voice was ‘angelic’ in which Grantaire thoughtlessly sent _'Almost as angelic as you'_. Stupid Grantaire should’ve realised what kind of reaction he would’ve had; as if it was easy to recover from that blow to the heart.

Subconsciously Enjolras began to listen to Édith Piaf’s songs as all he could think about was what Grantaire said. This way he was always reminded of him, and could control when he would think of him. All he had to do was unplug his phone, and Grantaire was gone from his thoughts… Well, almost. But it was the closest he was going to have from not thinking about him at all in favour of advancement of his grades.

Once he returned home he was quick to type _'La vie en rose is definitely my favourite'_  
Grantaire didn’t respond. Worried, Enjolras began to rewind his thoughts as he paced around the room until he tried to distract himself by painting on his computer. Unfortunately this required him to stare at the blank screen for an obscene amount of time until the notifications brought him to Grantaire again.  
_'Vraiment? It’s L'hymne à l'amour for me. What can I say, I’m weak for sad sounding songs.'_  
This hurt Enjolras. Grantaire would randomly reveal his sad side to him, which pained Enjolras. After all he viewed him as highly as he admired his skills. He couldn’t fathom anyone disliking him. He tried to lighten the mood. _'But La vie en rose is romantic'_  
_'Why does that matter? Mdr'_  
Yeah... He thought, why did that matter? Why did he point that specific detail out? 

He loosened his jaw as he realised he was grinding his teeth. He tried to distract himself from the unknown stress he was feeling. _'How come you don’t like the Parisian accent?'_  
_'Bon, it’s because it’s what the government wants.'_  
Enjolras began to snicker. How was he so perfect?  
_'It parallels the United Kingdom with the posh accent.'_ Grantaire tried to make a connection between the two which consequently made his heart feel lighter.  
_'Received Pronunciation'_ Enjolras typed before deleting it. He didn’t want to appear as a teacher to him… What _did_ he want to appear to him as?  
He shook his head. Enough of brainless thoughts. 

Rather than just chatting, he wanted to reveal more about himself: get to know a person just as a normal conversation would develop. Face to face. _'I don’t live in London, so I would know the pressure of speaking in a posher accent. I’m from Isle of Man.'_

_'Vraiment??! I would love to live on an island populated only by men. My love life would skyrocket.'_

Shit, this wasn’t good, Enjolras’ heart began to quicken as he learnt the information that Grantaire liked men. ‘He could like you’ rang through Enjolras’ ears.  
They got on so well he really believed they were meant to be. 

This time he actually slapped himself to snap out of his thought process.

He must have hit himself too hard as he witnessed a red flash on his finger but he had imagined it. He was born without a thread, he reminded himself.

Feeling down again, he exited the website and listened to La vie en rose once more. Unconsciously reminded of Grantaire, he began to paint in monochrome red for much of the background.

A message floated on the top corner of his screen. _'Sorry, was that inappropriate?'_

Huh? Why would his computer say that to him? Logic then kicked him in the brain as he realised those words belonged to Grantaire. Crap, Enjolras had forgotten he didn’t reply. _'Sorry, I forgot to text back. I just got inspired, that’s all.'_

As he continued with his painting of a man walking down the streets in 19th century France, he fell so deep into the black hole of which is called creative art and hadn’t realised how much time had passed. In fact he was so sucked into his art, he had forgotten that Grantaire had not replied to him.

 _'Oh, you were inspired by me?'_  
Invaded by sleepiness by that point but needing to be polite by responding, Enjolras typed some kind of a message before trying to complete his drawing and falling asleep on his desk.

He was awoken by a ping from his phone. Automatically his hand reached over to pick it up. Drooling, he tiredly read the text. It wasn’t from Grantaire. He frowned.  
It took several seconds until he realised it was Combeferre. As if caffeine was washed into him, Enjolras immediately snapped into full consciousness, no longer feeling even remotely tired.

_'Yo, I thought you said we could hang out today.'_

As Enjolras hurriedly put his shoes on he texted back. _'Sure. I haven’t forgotten- I’ll be there'_

_'What’s wrong with you? You’re always organised.'_

_What’s wrong with _you? _You’re always unorganised.___

_____ _

_'Ha. Ha. Come soon.'_

_____ _

Skipping breakfast, Enjolras headed out. On his jog he thought about the painting he created yesterday. He scrunched his face. Too much red, he remembered. Then he halted. Did he…? Did he post it? In nervousness he searched on his phone. Immediately he felt the urge to delete it until he read a certain name. It was Grantaire’s account. Naturally he smiled, scrolling down to see any comments from him. There wasn’t one. He frowned.

_____ _

Oh right, they texted each other now. He must have left a message then. He opened up their chat and widened his eyes upon reading his own text- the latest text on the chat: _'Of course. You always inspire me because you’re always on my mind'_

_____ _

“Hey!” Enjolras lifted his head to see Combeferre jogging towards him, “Why did you stop running towards me? Making me do half the work too? That’s cruel.”  
“No, it’s because I have…” He sniffed the air. “What’s that smell?”  
“Hmm?” Combeferre rotated around to scan the area, “Yeah, you wanted to come to this place because there was a festival here, right? I don’t know what you’re smelling but it might do something with the food stalls scattered around here.”

_____ _

Since they were close friends, Enjolras took him by the hand to drag him while following his nose.  
They eventually arrived in front of a lonely stall. “Really?” Combeferre commented, “You dragged me here for crêpes?”  
Enjolras blushed as he bought one. He cursed at Grantaire under his breath inaudibly.

_____ _

“What’s with you?” Combeferre asked as Enjolras tried to juggle between taking a bite of the crêpe and checking his phone.  
“Nothing,” He said, his mouth full.  
Combeferre chuckled lightly despite having no idea what was on his mind.

_____ _

When they found a place to sit, they argued about the British politics and what they would do if they were individually in power. Although it was very common for Enjolras to get distracted by his phone.  
“Okay, it’s the fifth time since you checked your phone, within, what, fifteen minutes? What’s so important? Is it your boyfriend? Come on, we live on a tiny island. I probably know him.”  
Enjolras shrugged. It wasn’t strange if he just kept to himself. Also he didn’t want to explain their relationship. What exactly was Grantaire to him? He shivered just thinking how he would answer if Combeferre asked him that question.  
“You know what, Enjy? Every time you check your phone, I’m going to be…” He opened his phone to find some inspiration, “Texting Courfeyrac!”  
Enjolras tried to hide a smile. “Okay, okay, let’s keep talking. New topic: Karl Marx.”

_____ _

As always, they dived deeper- too deep- into the subject before Enjolras heard a ping from his phone.  
“Finally your boyfriend replies! You checked your phone too many times.”  
Enjolras scrunched his face, not knowing what he meant as he was not aware of how ritualistic he was being with refreshing his chat.

_____ _

Interested in Enjolras’ love life, Combeferre snuck a peak of what Grantaire read. All he managed was a glimpse but he was able to tell it was a boyfriend. There were hearts in that text- a reasonable assumption. “An admirer? Is this about your art? That’s gotta be good for your ego.”  
Enjolras laughed along as he heard another ping from his phone. 

_____ _

Confused yet excited he opened up his phone just to realise it was Courfeyrac on the other end. _'HELP, ENJOLRAS, I THINK COMBEFERRE IS IN LOVE WITH ME- He’s texted me like fifty times asking things like ‘what’s up’ and ‘I just wanted to talk to you for no reason’ AHHHHHH'_ Wow, turned out Enjolras was pretty obsessive with his phone in retrospect. He glanced at Combeferre. “It’s just Courf.”  
“Oh right,” He nodded, smiling but looking down at the floor.  
“Will you—?”  
“Not right now.” Combeferre said, trying to keep his voice light. “I don’t… Want to give him half of my love or any other fraction of it- big or small. I want to give him my full force. That means actually being attracted to him. Until then, I’m not going to date him. I want to get the order right”

_____ _

Enjolras sighed, completely understanding. He was his best friend for a reason. “I hate red threads.”  
He patted him on the back, “Who knows, the guy you’re talking to might be linked to you.”  
“Impossible.” He murmured, sure that it was false.

_____ _

By the time night rolled around again, Enjolras remembered the text which read ‘merci’ with two hearts next to it. How could he be so confident in showing affection? Did he not have a partner? 

_____ _

When he logged into his account, he saw Grantaire posted a picture of him and his friend dressed in a red suit and red dress respectively posing in front of a mirror. He grinned goofily and commented _'You’d look better in green.'_

_____ _

After a quick shower, Enjolras returned to his phone buzzing. It was full of all caps messages from the one and only Grantaire. Then there was a photo, not as HD as his usual ones since it was taken by his phone, in which Grantaire was in his pyjamas, excitedly smiling with his bed hair accompanied by the text _'Mon chéri, you won’t believe what I’m wearing!'_ referencing his green pajamas.  
If this was a text from Courfeyrac or Combeferre or literally anyone else Enjolras would have burst into laughter or at least chuckled. But Grantaire wasn’t his friend. No, he refused to believe otherwise. They had a different connection. Even though he didn’t have the red thread, could it have been possible for the two of them to be together? He stared at ‘Mon chéri’ until he could visualise it if his eyes were closed.

_____ _

It had been ten minutes until Grantaire responded again, _'I didn’t mean to call you that! I just realized! I’m sorry, couz.'_  
In the back of his mind, he believed Grantaire was panicking just like him. He pushed that thought away. _'I don’t have a soulmate so I don’t mind being called chéri'_

_____ _

_'…..'_

_____ _

Enjolras began to sweat. Was he going to be discriminatory? He knew not everyone was accepting of different people. It was his life goal to chase them away…. He couldn’t bear the idea of pushing Grantaire way…

_____ _

_'Me too.'_

_____ _

What. What? _'What?'_

_____ _

_'I don’t have a red thread. Nothing around my finger.'_

_____ _

Enjolras couldn’t believe it. Blood ran away from his brain as he began to feel dizzy, feeling as if he was going to fall through the phone and join Grantaire. There was no way he found a person who could understand him fully.

_____ _

Something burst in his chest, like a flower blooming in his heart. There was no question in what he felt. It was a sudden wave of realisation. Without thinking, but with intent and not fuelled by accident, Enjolras typed _'Holy crap, I’m in love with you.'_  
He had never felt so confident in what he felt before. No second guessing. It had been love he was feeling.

_____ _

From the corner of his eye he saw a string lying on the floor. Curious, he followed the line to the window in which he opened. It ran down the street, further than he could make out. Knowing what this meant he stared down at his hand and saw a red thread wrapped around his little finger.  
He wore a lop-sided smile, blushing.

_____ _

His phone pinged several times until it began to ring. Confidently, Enjolras looked back and ran over to his phone and answered it. Although the number was stated to be anonymous, he knew who it was- who else could it have been?

_____ _

A breathless voice called out, excited. “I want to meet you.” 

_____ _

Enjolras smiled.

_____ _

**Author's Note:**

> Lmao I imagine my soulmate trying to cut the string just to see what would happen. Y’know, for shits and giggles.
> 
> I tried to listen to happy songs so I could imagine my characters being happy lol. For the first half of writing this I listened to [Stanfour- Learn to breathe](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b9Rrb9LqSnc). For the second half my gal Édith Piaf backed me up.
> 
> This became a way longer fic than I intended whoops


End file.
